


The Shade of Hudson Hall

by Svartalfhild



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Dangerous Suitor, F/M, Romance, The Phantom of the Opera AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-15
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-01-01 14:34:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1045078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Svartalfhild/pseuds/Svartalfhild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly Hooper is a young orphaned violinist in the resident orchestra of a concert hall in London. She has been taught well, but she has never met her teacher. Despite her talent, the chance for a higher position is closed to her...until a single moment that completely changes the course of her life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Overture/The Curtain Rises

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, here it is, the Phantomlock fic I proposed to the Sherlolly community on Tumblr. I never expected to get the ardent show of support for the idea that I did. Thank you. You're all wonderful people. I really hope you enjoy this. Also, shoutout to alittleoblivion and onceinabluemoon13 on Tumblr for being awesome betas.

 By the age of twenty, Molly Hooper was a very accomplished young woman, which was more than could be said for most orphans. She was second chair in the 1st Violin section of the resident orchestra in Hudson Hall, a remarkable thing for someone of her gender. She could also read, write, play piano, sing, and had a rapidly developing knowledge of everything she also deemed important, from biology to sewing. Though she was quite accomplished, she was not at all boastful. In fact, she was quite the modest girl. Whenever her friends spoke of her abilities, she would blush and silently shrink away. Her caretaker, Mrs. Hudson (wife of the late Mr. Hudson whom the hall was named after), frequently vouched for her talent because she would not speak up for herself. Once, such an occasion drastically changed the course of her life.

It began during a rehearsal a day before an important concert. The concertmaster, Mr. Anderson, was attempting the solo with his usual mediocrity. Molly felt rather neutral about the man. While few would argue that he was a great violinist or a humble person, she bore no ill will towards him. He, on the other hand, was not so charitable to anyone, least of all her. The moment she'd made second chair, he'd begun treating her both as a threat and an insignificant underling. He was a bit of a prima donna (although calling him that would always end badly for the sayer) and was constantly having technical difficulties that sometimes caused him to threaten to walk out.

Among this day's issues were his strings breaking. Both his D and A strings had snapped in the course of the rehearsal so far, resulting in the whole group having to stop and wait while Anderson's poor assistant hastily replaced the broken string. Then there were all the times either he or someone else would completely foul up a section of the piece. Molly was beginning to lose track of the number of times they'd started over when they were interrupted yet again just after Anderson's A string had been replaced by three men entering the hall. They all approached the conductor, wearing big smiles.

“May I present Hudson Hall's new managers: Misters Sebastian Wilkes and Edward Van Coon.” The stockiest of the men announced. “Sirs, may I present our conductor, Mr. Gregory Lestrade.” Lestrade shook hands with both Wilkes and Van Coon, sending them a tight smile each.

“You're really leaving, then, Stamford?” Lestrade asked.

“Oh yes. I'm leaving everything in the hands of these capable gentleman and retiring.” Stamford answered with a conviction that wasn't well hidden. Anderson stood and went to shake hands with the new managers, making Stamford nervous. “Ah, and this is Mr. Philip Anderson, our concertmaster.” The violinist beamed at the managers who shook his hand and gave him overly enthusiastic smiles in return. Clearly they had picked up on Anderson's ego already. Stamford was about to tell the orchestra to carry on when another man entered.

This man was much better dressed than the others and he carried himself with an air of nobility and high intelligence that was notably intimidating.

“Ah, Lord James Moriarty, Hudson Hall's noble patron. Welcome, sir. I presume you are here to meet the new managers.” Stamford greeted, looking as if he was making an effort to seem pleased by this nobleman's appearance.

“Indeed.” Moriarty replied simply with a devilish grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. Molly noticed how empty the man's large brown eyes seemed to be. It sent a horrible shiver down the young woman's spine. Already she did not like the patron. She observed him closely as he shook hands with the new managers and scanned the orchestra with his dead eyes. She prayed that his gaze would not linger on her. Fortunately, he seemed relatively uninterested in all of them. “Do carry on. I only wished to briefly assess my family's investment. We shall see what you are truly made of tomorrow night, I think.”

“Quite right, quite right.” Wilkes responded, though he himself had little idea of the quality of the orchestra. With that, Moriarty was gone as quickly as he had come and Lestrade was left to start the group again from the top while the managers watched. They'd gotten two minutes in when Anderson's violin made a horrid breathy scratching noise. Everyone stopped playing and stared.

“My bow does not have enough rosin. Why does it not have enough rosin? Boy! Rosin my bow!” the man snapped and the poor kid was forced once again to hastily change something that Anderson found lacking.

“Mr. Stamford, why exactly are you retiring, again?” Van Coon asked as they all gazed at the scene before them.

“For my health. I require fresh air and relaxation.”

“Ah.”

“And I shall be going now. Good luck. If you have any questions, write to me.” Without saying anything further, Stamford hurried out of the hall, leaving Mrs. Hudson, who had been watching from the wings, to be their informant. As the orchestra began playing again, she came to sit with the gentlemen in the house.

“You have women in the orchestra.” Van Coon commented with a leer.

“Oh yes, they're quite talented young ladies.” Mrs. Hudson replied cheerily.

“Who's the pretty one next to Mr. Anderson? Is she a relation by any chance?”

“That'd be Miss Molly Hooper.”

“Ah, I see. Hooper...any relation to the late opera singer, Roderick Hooper?”

“His daughter. She's been living with me since his death.” At this, both men immediately seemed to lose interest and turned their attention to Anderson's solo. He was using far too much vibrato and while he was quite able to hit the notes, his tone was tinny and grated on everyone's ears. Just as they were all beginning to fear that it would never end, there was a sharp snapping noise accompanied by a high-pitched _twang_ , which was promptly followed by a cry of anguish. Suddenly, Anderson was curled up on the floor, his violin lying beside him in pieces, smashed as it was by its owner's sudden fall. The concertmaster clutched his cheek and shrieked in pain before getting up to glare at the managers and Mrs. Hudson. He'd been cut by his snapped E string.

“That's it! I've had it!” The men were quick to rush to the concertmaster's side to implore him to stay. Molly paid little attention to Anderson's tantrum and the commotion of the other musicians around her. She was too busy thinking of the shadow she'd just seen move beyond the stage. John Watson, a clarinetist and her dear friend came over to whisper her thoughts aloud.

“It's the Shade. He's watching us.” Molly only nodded absent-mindedly in response. She tuned back in at the sound of Mrs. Hudson saying her name.

“Perhaps you can give the solo to Molly Hooper.” The old woman suggested. Apparently Anderson had finally followed through on his threats this time and the orchestra was without a concertmaster or soloist. Mr. Lestrade seemed relieved by Mrs. Hudson's suggestion, but Wilkes and Van Coon were not so easily put at ease.

“First you tell us there's a Hall Ghost making demands and now you suggest the orchestra be led by a little known _woman_.” Wilkes scoffed in outrage.

“She's been taught by a master. At least let her play for you.” Mrs. Hudson pleaded while Molly tried to hide her blush.

“Very well.” Van Coon agreed rather reluctantly. Molly gave both men shy smiles and looked to Mr. Lestrade, who beamed at her.

“From the top, then, Miss Hooper.” He instructed and she placed her violin in position on her shoulder. Lestrade counted off and she began, softly and first, but then her volume began to build until her once sweet melody transformed into a soaring beauty of a sound. She swayed with the music despite her nervousness and the people around gazed in awe, mesmerized until even moments after the last note rang out and faded. Her peers applauded her enthusiastically and the managers grinned at her as if they'd just struck gold.

“It appears we have our new soloist.” Wilkes announced animatedly.

* * *

 

Molly went to bed that night with the biggest of smiles on her face. She had only ever dreamed of becoming concertmistress. She had never thought it to be actually possible, and yet here she was. It had her heart all aflutter and that made it difficult for her to get to sleep, but she did eventually calm down enough to drift off.

Molly's dreams were strange. A dark figure, a man, called her name in his deep voice and beckoned to her before vanishing. A violin softly began to play in the distance and she found her legs guiding her towards its source, her heart yearning to hear the music more clearly and see the one whose hand led the bow.

The young woman awoke rather suddenly to discover that she was standing in the middle of the room Mrs. Hudson had given her as her study, candle in hand and feet chilled by the stone floor. Clearly she'd been sleepwalking. Just as she was about to sigh at herself and go back to bed, she felt a presence in the dark, cold room and heard that familiar, rich baritone whisper to her.

“Molly...” She looked about frantically, trying to seeing what direction it had come from. Where was he guiding her? Then she caught sight of a new object upon her worn oak desk. Looking more closely, she realized that it was a book with a slip of parchment atop it, bearing a note written in the elegant black scrawl of her master. 'For my concertmistress,' it read and Molly felt her heart skip a beat.

“Teacher...” she murmured reverently, knowing this was his way of saying that he was proud of her. The book, new and bound in smooth black leather, was a collection of sensational literature, as the cover told her with its gold stamped lettering. This was something she could read purely for pleasure, which amounted to quite the reward coming from her dear tutor. “Thank you.” She knew he had heard her, for she still felt his presence there with her in the study. Then that warm feeling was suddenly gone and a minute later, a blond man appeared in the doorway.

“Molly?” It was John. He seemed quite confused by her late night appearance in her study. “I saw your candlelight pass down the corridor. Pray tell me why you are up. Can you not sleep?” He then noticed the book in her hands and raised his eyebrows. Molly followed his eyes and smiled.

“My master is pleased with my promotion.” She told her friend. The man took her mentions of this teacher pretty much in stride now, though he thought it strange because no one had ever even seen this great violinist, not even Molly herself.

“Is he, now? Well, why has he shown it with a book? Why not flowers?”

“Flowers are lovely, yes, but they wilt and die. Books are forever. The pages may rip and crumble, but the knowledge they have imparted upon me remains. My shadow knows this.” It was the expression on Molly's face when she said this that finally solidified the suspicions John had had for as long as he'd heard speak of her teacher. He was now certain that she was smitten with this man she'd never seen. It greatly concerned him. She was like a sister to him and he did not wish to see any harm come to her.

“Molly, how can you so completely trust this ghost man you are always hearing?”

“Because, John, father told me of him.” Molly replied earnestly.

“He what?”

“When I was a little girl, a year before my father died, he sat by my bed and told me that one day, out of the darkness, my guide and guardian would come, always watching over me and granting me his knowledge.” The young woman explained and John mulled it over for a minute in his mind. If what she said was true and her late father's premonition had been real, then this man who taught her was an angel of shadow and would always be there to protect her, meaning that John had nothing to fear, but he had to be sure. He took her aside, setting their candles upon her weathered desk, and sat her in her chair, pulling up another for himself.

“How did this creature come to you? You never told me how it happened. One day, you just began talking about a teacher you could not see.”

“On my thirteenth birthday- you will remember it well. That was the year Mrs. Hudson granted me this room- I decided that I would spend the night in here, practicing on my violin. The later it grew, the more frustrated I became with the piece I was trying to learn. I was brought nearly to tears, for while I could easily play the notes and rhythms, I could not bring the expression the music required. I set my instrument aside and sat myself in the corner, telling myself I was a failure and a disgrace to my father. Then a deep voice spoke to me out of the darkness, saying soothingly 'Calm yourself, child. All is not lost.' I was so shocked by this that the sob that had been threatening to surface from within me was banished. 'Who's there?' I called out and he answered 'Take up your violin again, Molly Hooper, and you shall learn.' I did as the voice commanded, fearing consequences should I disobey. 'Play again, but this time as you do so, imagine you are fighting off Mr. Hudson and winning,' he said to me. I was startled by his knowledge of me and the people in my life and then I realized that he had to have been watching over me. That reminded me of father's words and all of my fears were dispelled. I played again, imagining just as I had been instructed, and suddenly the music flowing from under my bow was beautiful. 'You are no failure or disgrace, Molly Hooper. You are simply in need of guidance. Continue to heed my words when I speak them and both your mind and your music will gain a beauty which few have known.' my teacher told me when I had finished. From then on, I would often hear him whispering to me out of the shadows, sharing his wisdom with me.” Molly divulged. She had never spoken of this with anyone before in the seven years that her dear tutor had been with her, but she trusted John, having grown up with him and thus knowing that he would keep her secrets.

“You do indeed play as if you have been given some heavenly boon. There can be no denying that he has taught you well. But still I wonder why he has not shown himself to you.”

“Perhaps there is no form to see.” Molly suggested, but John shook his head knowingly.

“You know he has a form. We have both seen his silhouette many a time.” The young woman instantly caught on to what he was implying and gaped at him.

“You mean-”

“Yes.”

“But how-”

“What else happened seven years ago?”

“The Shade of the Hall appeared and exposed Mr. Hudson's violence to the public.” There was a pause in which Molly fully processed and accepted the implicit connection in her mind. “My God, you're right! My teacher must be that apparition of justice. But then that means...that means he was responsible for driving Mr. Anderson out! He assured my ascension to first chair! Oh!” Molly gasped, a variety of emotions flooding her mind. She was shocked that the Shade had gone so far for her, disappointed in herself for never seeing the obvious link between her teacher and the Shade, and strangely exhilarated that the two beings were one and the same.

“Are you still certain in your trust of him?” John asked, making sure his tone was gentle and not at all accusatory.

“Absolutely. He may be a harsh sometimes when he is frustrated with me and strict about my discipline, but he would never do anything to hurt me.” John wished for her sake that her tutor was who she professed him to be and he trusted her judgement, so his mind was put at ease.

“You're fortunate to have him, Molly.” John told her with a small smile.

“I suppose I am, aren't I?” she giggled. “Maybe there's a clarinetist spirit out there watching over you.” John laughed at this.

“If there is, she's been not nearly as attentive of me as your guardian angel has been of you. Now come, you had better return to bed.” The blond put an arm around Molly and led her back down the corridor to her bedroom. In the distance, she swore she could hear that sweet melody from her dreams once more and a sudden contentment came over her. As she lay once again in her bed, she hoped one day to see the face behind such beautiful music and know the man whose voice she'd fallen in love with.

* * *

 

This was arguably one of the most important nights of Molly Hooper's life and she felt almost like she was viewing it as another person. Here she stood upon the stage at Hudson Hall in a luxurious black gown, her wooden companion perched on her shoulder, allowing the music to flow from within her for hundreds of people to see. She could feel the notes reverberating through not just the hall, but her entire body. It was an otherworldly experience that presented itself to the many wealthy attendees as a particularly moving and breathtaking performance. Even after her last note rang out, she could still feel that exhilarating energy in her small, agile fingers and the pounding of her heart was so loud she thought everyone could hear it.

Slowly, Molly turned to face the standing ovation she was receiving, a grin gracing her delicate lips. Out of the corner of her eye, the brunette could see a dark figure sitting in an unlit Box 2, applauding her. Something about that made her heart beat even faster, causing her to feel a little faint, but still, she kept on beaming at the crowd, hardly able to believe this was happening to her.

Up in Box 5, Lord Moriarty gazed down at this young violinist with his cold, calculating eyes which were now alight with the flame of developing plans. He immediately left the house, intending to head off her new throng of adoring fans. He followed her to a door elsewhere in Hudson Hall and waited for a moment before knocking, putting on a warm smile just before she opened up.

“Good evening, Miss Hooper.” Moriarty greeted, presenting Molly with a large bouquet of hyacinths. “For my lovely concertmistress.” He gave her a small bow as she took the flowers. “You play like a goddess, my dear.”

“Th-Thank you, my lord. I'm flattered.” The woman responded with a curtsy and his smile broadened at her stutter.

“I wonder if such beauty would grant me the honor of dining with me tonight.” Molly was struck by the noble's charming demeanor, so unlike the chilling man she had feared before. Had her music changed him? For a moment she honestly considered going with him, after all, what sensible girl would turn away a lord, particularly one so charming as he? But then she remembered her teacher and opened her mouth to decline. “I shall send for my carriage and return for you momentarily.” With that, the man rushed off, leaving her to retreat into her study in a confused haze, her objection unvoiced. What was she to do? Setting the hyacinths on the table by the window, Molly sat down in her chair and closed her eyes to think. The sounds of chatting guests grew louder as they moved into the lavish corridor containing the door to this room. As exciting as it was to be a soloist, she had not desire for limelight or obligatory socializing. This right now was her only sanctuary from that.

“Lock the door,” the familiar voice of her teacher commanded abruptly. Molly's eyes snapped open and searched for the source of the sound, but as usual, she could not locate it. After only another moment's hesitation, she did as he requested, taking up her key to go over and turn it in the aesthetically extravagant golden lock. “You did well tonight, Molly. Do not allow those leeches to spoil your triumph. You do not need them or the things they offer...nor do you want them, if your behaviour is any indication.”

“I have earned your praise. I'm grateful. And you're right of course...but what of Lord Moriarty? I cannot simply refuse one such as he.”

“You must. Do not be taken in by the twinkle in his eye. You were right to fear him before.” The voice insisted. Molly was rather stricken by the severe tone. Her teacher rarely spoke of others and even then, he seemed bored by them, but Moriarty seemed to have grabbed his attention and that worried her. Perhaps the lord was far more sinister than she would ever have thought.

“I understand, master.” She answered softly and suddenly the doorknob shook violently, causing the young woman to let out a terrified gasp.

“Miss Hooper, why have you locked me out?” Moriarty's lilting voice came, muffled by the door. The pleasantness in his tone was not reflected by the force with which he rattled the doorknob. “Let me in, Molly.” Those words shook the violinist to her core and she let out a tiny whimper, trying in all her horror to think clearly of a way to escape. Still feeling the warm presence of her tutor, she called out to him in a whisper.

“Teacher, I'm frightened. This man will surely bust in the door and take me away. I must flee, but I know not how. Guide me.” Wrapping her arms around herself, Molly backed away from the trembling door, only to bump into something quite warm and solid. She gasped and turned around to nearly pass out at the sight of a tall, darkly clad man. The top half of his face was covered by a black mask and the moment she saw it, she knew who he must be: The Shade of Hudson Hall.

Without a word, he took her hand and pushed aside her bookshelf to reveal the entrance to a dark passage which he pulled her into and sealed back up behind her.


	2. Music of the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really, really sorry that this took so long to get done. I had really bad writer's block for this and then when I did finally finish it, I had to run it by my betas (shoutout to them once more for being awesome). I hope this makes up for the long ass wait.

In the beginning, he had told himself that Molly Hooper was just a longterm project, a challenge to see if, despite his deficiencies, he could create something glorious out of a human being. He had sworn that he would never become attached to her, never allow his heart to rule his head, yet here he was, tampering with the strings on Philip Anderson's violin because she deserved to be recognized for her talent. Here he was, giving her recreational literature and finally showing himself in her study to rescue her from a dangerous suitor. As he led her down the dark passageways to his domain, he realized that he  _ had _ formed an attachment, a deep affection even. Not only did he want to protect her from Lord Moriarty, he also wanted to keep her to himself. His long dormant heart now yearned to bring her emotionally closer and make her loyal to him above all others. 

Her performance only an hour ago still lingered in his mind, bewitching him and preventing him from being able to shut these feelings away. He both hated and relished it, the question of which he felt more was answered in the fact that he was now holding Molly's hand and leading her through darkness to his small underground abode, a place no one else but Mrs. Hudson had ever seen.

When they finally entered his candlelit chambers, Molly's fear seemed to be replaced by awe at the sight before her.

“This is your home,” she murmured in revelation and fascination as she looked about at the organized chaos around her. Sheet music and other sorts of important papers were strewn over every flat surface as well as books and various strange apparatuses made of glass and metal. It was the lair of a genius.

“Quick as usual.” Molly's attention was immediately and completely diverted to his person. This was the first time she'd heard his voice coming from a specific location and the first time she'd seen his accompanying smirk, though she could not see all of his face because of his mask. For a moment, she simply stared, which he gathered was her taking in his appearance. The first things she seemed to notice were his tallness, his cupid's bow lips, and his blue eyes, which shone through the holes in his mask like a pair of polished aquamarines. His head of silky black curls and chiseled bone structure also seemed to catch her attention and he chuckled in amusement at how mesmerized she seemed. He wondered how she'd imagined him to look before. Obviously she liked what she saw better than whatever she'd pictured in her mind. Good. That would make her even less tempted to walk into Moriarty's trap. “You will be safe here, Molly. If ever you should need refuge, come here, but be sure never to reveal this place's existence to anyone.”

“Of course, master. Thank you. You are most generous.” His eyebrows rose at this. No one had ever used that word to describe him before.

“What kind of teacher fails to protect his student?” he responded smoothly. “Now come. I will show you the river.” He held out the hand that only a minute ago had released Molly's and she took it, allowing him to lead her through another passage to a door and down steps to the rocky bank of a shallow underground river. “If you ever go down to the river, remember to step carefully. The rocks can be quite slick when wet,” the Shade told his pupil as she gazed at the slowly flowing river. She nodded at his warning and stepped back a little. He led her back to his rooms and gestured for her to sit on the cushioned chair by his desk while he reclined on a matching sofa. “I'm sure you've got questions. Ask them.”

“Why is the patron interested in me?”

“He wants to collect you and make you his new favorite toy. He liked your music, so he has begun his conquest of you.” The Shade explained simply, his tone hinting at grave. Molly nodded in understanding.

“Why do you wear a mask?”

“Must you really ask that question? Obviously I wear a mask because I do not wish for my face to be seen.”

“Do you have a name?”

“That is an even more precious secret than my face.”

“Surely there is something I can call you besides your title.”

“Your friend, John Watson, calls me your Angel of Shadow. Let me be clear; I am no creature of God though I may be more than a man. The others call me the Shade, which is a more apt name.”

“May I call you both?”

“If you wish, although I would ask that you refrain from referring to me as Angel of Shadow when you are in the presence of others.” Molly turned pink at this and he realized she must have guess his meaning. He thought of that name as having a connotation of familiarity and closeness, something private between them that he would allow only her to use to directly address him.

“Thank you...my Angel of Shadow.” Hearing her say it sparked something in him that temporarily stunned him. It took him a moment to sort out the many emotions that he was suddenly feeling and get his body to relax again. Once he'd done that, he was able to think more clearly and realize that he'd just experienced both pure joy and heartache simultaneously. Curse this woman and her insufferable ability to make him feel.

Abruptly, his mind was fraught with conflict. One part of him wanted him to push Molly away to protect his heart. The other wanted him to pull her closer and command her to say those words again. In the end, he did neither. He simply inclined his head and watched as Molly's eyes roamed the room once more. He enjoyed watching her. There was something captivating about how she moved, how she always looked about in curiosity. She observed her surroundings just as he had taught her. Oh yes, he was more than her violin tutor. He imparted upon her everything he felt she ought to know. He had shared with her his books of anatomy, philosophy, physics, and many other subjects. She was smart and talented and that had allowed him to build her into the magnificent creature that now sat in his chair. He was shaken from his thoughts by another question from her.

“What is it that you do? When you're not watching me or playing your violin, that is.”

“There are many activities that hold my attention, but recently I have been focusing on composition.”

“That's wonderful!” Molly exclaimed in delight and the Shade almost flinched in shock. He had never expected her to respond this way to him, the real him, the man behind the voice. She truly was a dazzling being.

“One day, Molly, you will play my music, before a grand audience and they will hear you and know true beauty.” The brunette turned a shade of red that would make a tomato jealous. Only then did what he'd just said register fully in his mind. There was an uncomfortable silence in which Molly stared and the Shade attempted to hide his embarrassment. Clearing his throat, the man changed the subject. “That is enough questions for tonight, Miss Hooper. It is time for you to rest. You may use my bedroom. I will have no need of it.”

“W-Would that not be rather improper?” Molly stammered and the Shade could see from the look on her face that her mind was going places it  _ really _ shouldn't.

“Propriety should be the least of your concerns at this point, wouldn't you say? You've already hidden alone with a mysterious man, your teacher, who is not much older than yourself. If society did not think me an apparition, they'd have been calling you many a vulgar name long before now. Oh yes, the others know of your association with me. Who else could be the tutor Molly Hooper cannot see but the Shade of Hudson Hall himself? It is why they avoid you. Why they think you odd. They call you Ghost Girl and Apprentice of the Dead behind your back. Sally Donovan, the strong willed cellist you so often hear refer to me as the Phantom Freak, she names you freak as well,” the Shade said impetuously and Molly gasped, her hand flying up to cover her mouth and her eyes glistening. “Do you not hate me for the stain I have left on your image? Do you not wish to leave this place and turn away from me forever?” The woman shook her head and the Shade's eyes narrowed. “If I did not know you better, I would call you a fool, Molly Hooper. But you are an intelligent young woman.”

His demeanor suddenly changed to be much gentler, but his words still carried a heavy weight with them. “Do not let their words bring you down. They can only touch you now if you let them. They do not understand the potential inside of you, not like I do. They are nothing, their words meaningless and unimportant. What  _ is _ important is the music. Do you see?” He was met with stunned silence. 

“Go to bed now,” he commanded, turning away from Molly and giving a dismissive gesture. He needed her away from him. He needed time alone to think and squash the affections that had sprung up in his heart. She did not hesitate to do as he asked this time.

In the dark of the Shade's bedroom, she drifted off to the sound of her master's violin, playing a tune she'd never heard before, but seemed to have been written with the intention of calming her fears.

* * *

 

The bed Molly Hooper found herself in when she awoke in the morning was most certainly not her own. For a moment, that frightened and confused her, but then she remembered the events of the previous night- the Shade had saved her from the terrifying advances of Lord Moriarty and brought her into his world. She'd be lying if she said she didn't find his form as attractive as his mind and voice. Despite his unguarded monologue to her about her social position and how upsetting that had been for her, she had to admit to herself that she was in love with him. She'd been holding off that thought for years but seeing him in the flesh now had brought it crashing down on her. For a moment, she felt lightheaded from the quickness at which her thoughts had set her heart beating. She longed to look upon him once more and feel the warmth of his gloved hand entwining with her own.

Slowly, Molly got to her feet and left the bedroom, which was absolutely neat and tidy compared to the Shade's study. He was not there to greet her, so she turned her attention to the sheets of music on the piano in the corner. Sitting down on the bench, she took up the first paper in front of her. It was titled “Duet for the Strange” with two solo violin parts and an accompanying orchestra. From the looks of it, it was a very expressive piece. The first movement was marked 'gently'. Looking at one of the violin parts, she felt she had heard this part somewhere before, but she couldn't place her finger on it. She looked at the second movement, which was marked 'passionately'. The music played itself in her mind as she read and her face grew quite warm. Suddenly, the paper was snatched from her hands and she gasped, looking up to see a rather displeased Shade glaring at her.

“I did not give you permission to handle my things,” he snapped, placing the music back on the piano roughly.

“I'm sorry!” Molly blurted out, startled. “I was only curious. Please forgive me.” She bowed her head and stared at her fidgeting hands. The Shade's features softened and he took a step back from her, seeming to realize he'd been standing over her in a rather imposing manner.

“Never fear me, Molly Hooper,” he said, slowly reaching out to gently push her chin up so that she would look him in the eyes. For the first time that morning, she was able to fully take in his appearance. His black hair was damp and he no longer wore a cloak, waistcoat, or cravat. His white shirt hung open just enough for her to see a bit of his chest. The heat returned to her face and she made sure to keep her eyes on his mask. At this point, she was certain that he cared little for societal expectations. “I believe it is safe for you to go above now. Do you remember the way?” he asked as he took her by the hand to pull her to her feet.

“I think so.”

“Good. Take this candle.” The Shade handed Molly one of the blue candles that lit the room. “Leave it behind your bookshelf. We can't have anyone finding it.” The woman nodded at this and made to leave, but looked back as she reached the door.

“Will I see you again?”

“Is there a reason why you wouldn't?” the Shade asked with a frown of confused concern.

“No, I was just...sorry, no, never mind.” He gazed back at her for a moment and then smirked, perhaps realizing what she was trying to say.

“Go, Molly. You will hear from me again later.” There was something akin to affection in his voice, but Molly dared not thinking on it very hard. As she entered the darkness of the passageway back to her study, the Shade's smirk remained etched in her visual memory.

* * *

 

“My God, where have you been!?” John exclaimed upon seeing Molly passing down the corridor to her bedroom. “Everyone has been looking for you. Lord Moriarty had the whole concert hall searched. 'Leave no stone unturned,' I believe his words were.” At the mention of the patron's name, Molly froze and John noticed. “You were hiding from him.” Slowly, she nodded. “Tell me what happened.” Molly then quietly told him everything that had occurred, only omitting things the Shade had forbidden her to talk about. “I shall never doubt your trust in your tutor again, Molly. He came to you and took you from danger the moment you called for him.”

“I am glad to hear it, but now we must think of what to do about Lord Moriarty. I am unsure what to say to him regarding what happened last night, for he'll surely want to know. The Shade gave me no instructions in this matter and I can only think that he trusts me to handle it myself. I can't tell the truth, obviously. Perhaps I shall say I was taken against my will. It will certainly convince Moriarty that I have not caught onto his game,” Molly rambled, gesticulating as she sometimes did when she was stressed or excited. John grabbed her shoulders to get her to focus on the moment.

“You can think about it while you change. I'll go and do my best to stall the discovery of your return until you are ready,” he assured her and she gave him a small smile.

“Yes, thank you, John.” With that, the two separated, Molly heading the rest of the way to her bedroom. When she entered, she locked the door behind herself to further deter unwanted visitors. Upon turning around, the sharp sound of a gasp came from her. There, sitting on the edge of her bed, grinning, was James Moriarty.

“Well, well, well, where have you been, my dear? You disappeared last night and I am very much curious as to how you managed it,” he leered. Molly did her best not to seem afraid. She came further into the room to stand by the window.

“I was snatched by the Shade.”

“And what would a silly ghost want with you?” The man tilted his head at her, cocking a dark eyebrow. Molly couldn't tell whether he was skeptical of her statement or genuinely intrigued.

“Truth be told, I'm not sure. He didn't say anything to me.”

“Did he...?” The boldness in the implication of the question shocked Molly a little, but she didn't show it. There was concern in Moriarty's voice, but she didn't think it was necessarily for her.

“No! No. I don't believe his intentions were ever to hurt me,” Molly answered hastily. The very notion of the Shade harming her was abhorrent, especially knowing as she did that he would never do such a thing. In fact, for the most part, he was rather kind and gentle to her.

“Well, that's a relief. It sounds as if he was simply starstruck by your performance last night. And who can blame him? We were all in awe of you.” Molly couldn't help blushing at this and the Irishman's grin returned.

“I am truly sorry for any trouble this may have caused. I cannot remember much of it, but I snuck away soon after I awoke this morning.” Moriarty appeared to be satisfied, whatever suspicions he'd had abating for now.

“No harm done. I'll see you again soon, I think. Good day, Miss Hooper. It's good to see that you are safe,” he said to her as he got up to leave. As he walked past her, he touched a lock of her long hair and it took every ounce of her willpower not to cringe. The moment she was alone again, she put a hand to her chest and took deep breaths, her other hand pressed against the wall for support. The hyacinths still lay on her table and she was struck by the urge to burn them. She had no doubt now that that man was manipulating her. After taking a moment to calm herself, Molly went through the list of things she still needed to do and changed into a fresh dress.

As soon as she had herself put together, she headed out to reveal her return. The sound of unhappy raised voices drew her to the grand staircase at the front of the building. It seemed that Mr. Lestrade, the managers, and Mr. Anderson were having a heated argument over some papers in their hands.

“'Miss Hooper will be concertmistress in all future performances in my hall.' Who does he think he is?! This is  _ our _ concert hall. We'll not have some arrogant apparition tell us how to run it,” Mr. Wilkes spat angrily. “Anderson will remain concertmaster.”

“Be reasonable, gentlemen,” Mr. Lestrade implored.

“There's nothing reasonable about this vile 'Shade' or whoever he is telling me to permanently vacate the premises,” Mr. Anderson fired back, brandishing the letter in his hand.

“I think it unwise to disregard the Shade's wishes. I'm sure Miss Hooper will turn up soon. He wouldn't have sent these letters if he didn't know she was safe,” the conductor insisted.

“Even so, we cannot have our lead musician mysteriously disappearing all of the time. That's final.” Molly chose this moment to move into the men's view and announce her presence.

“Good morning, gentlemen.” They all looked up at her and Mr. Lestrade beamed, clearly quite relieved to see her. The others did not seem quite so pleased.

“About time, Miss Hooper,” Mr. Van Coon grumbled as he, Wilkes, and Anderson walked by her.

“I'm glad you're back. I was getting worried. I tried to talk sense into those men, but they're determined to defy our Hall Ghost, so it seems that you're second chair again,” Lestrade told Molly as he approached her. She gave him a smile to show him that everything was fine.

“Maybe they'll change their minds when they hear Mr. Anderson play again.” They both laughed at this and for the time being, everything did indeed seem fine.

* * *

 

After rehearsal that night, Molly quietly returned to her study. It turned out that the managers were even more adamant in their position than Lestrade had let on and they could not be persuaded, however awfully Anderson played, to heed the Shade's command. Molly wouldn't have minded at all if it weren't for the fact that the concertmaster was dragging the rest of the orchestra down with him.

In the dim candlelight of her study, the woman took up her violin and softly began to play a song she had heard in her dreams. She was uncertain of herself at first, but steadily she relaxed and let the music control her. She swayed and swerved her body about fluidly, her eyes closed but her face still conveying her emotions. After awhile, she heard another violin in the distance join her, echoing her melody like their instruments were having a conversation. The two violins eventually reached a unison and Molly felt as if her heart had taken flight. She didn't have to wonder who the other violinist was. It could only have been the Shade and she knew in that moment that she would never love anyone else the way she loved him. She knew she shouldn't. She knew that the impure thoughts that filled her head were wrong in the eyes of society, but she didn't give a damn. The piece ended out as softly as it had begun and Molly couldn't help but hope that the passionate way in which he'd played was a sign that he felt the same about her.

While she put away her violin, the young woman could hear the Shade playing the same tune he had the night before as she'd fallen asleep under his sheets. She wanted to go down and see him, but something told her that it wasn't the right time, so she just sat and listened to her tutor's beautiful music, watching her candle burn low, its little flame licking about seemingly to the beat. She drifted off with her head resting on her desk and awoke the next morning in her own bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can happily promise that the next chapter will take much, much less time to bring to you.


	3. All I Ask of You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. Life was being, well, life. I do hope this is worth it for all of you.

Long months passed and Molly Hooper did not hear from the Shade but for a note left on her desk which read , 'There is little more that I could teach you now. I hereby release you from my tutelage.' There was no signature, only the letter S and a blue wax seal bearing an ox's skull. It warmed and broke her heart at the same time. She wanted to see him and properly tell him how grateful she was for everything that he'd done for her, but she was being kept quite busy by the patron of Hudson Hall, who liked to take her out (whether she accepted his invitations or not) at least twice a week if not every night. 

James Moriarty was charming and funny and Molly honestly liked those things about him, but every now and again, she would catch the reflection of candlelight in his eyes and she would see the abyss of emptiness that lay beneath his flirtatious mask. Those moments chilled her and reminded her not to drop her guard. By all appearances, the Shade was not with her any longer and so it was up to her to find a way to break free of Moriarty's grasp. She had to be vigilant, lest she find herself being swept away to some garish manor in the country, never to be heard from again. John was very supportive of her, but half his free time had begun to be taken up by the pretty blonde flutist named Mary who had recently joined the group. Molly didn't judge him for it. He deserved a little happiness and Mary was certainly a wonderful young woman. Mrs. Hudson seemed to have some idea of what was going on between the patron and the violinist and she would try to find excuses for Molly not to go with him. Molly was immensely thankful for this, but the effort proved largely ineffective. Moriarty still found it easy to pull her into his clutches. She was losing her appetite from eating (or rather picking at) overpriced delicacies every other night and she could feel both her body and her will slowly weakening. On the eve of the orchestra's next grand performance, Lord Moriarty sprung her with something she had not entirely expected.

They were standing on a balcony alone when it happened. Molly had been brought to some aristocratic party and had gone out to get some air, to escape the suffocating lights and maybe be free of her suitor for at least a few minutes in the comfort of the night. He followed her, much to her displeasure, but she didn't look at him when he came to stand beside her. She refused to give him the satisfaction of the impression she'd learnt to care for him. He grabbed her left hand and slid a ring of white gold and rubies onto her finger.

“Marry me.” It wasn't a question. It was a command. Caught off guard, Molly looked at him now in surprise. His dark eyes were as dead as ever in staring back at her. Her steadfast resolve brought her quickly back into focus after her moment of shock and allowed her to formulate a response.

“You honour me with your request, my lord, but you must give me some time to think on it,” she answered calmly, resisting the urge to nervously smooth the skirt of her gown, and Moriarty grinned devilishly.

“Of course, my dear. Take as much time you like to decide what is best for you.” There was a threat veiled in that statement, Molly was sure, but she didn't so much as flinch. Instead, she smiled sweetly and returned to the party. Right then, she wanted to be somewhere where other people could see her. She wanted the protection of a crowd. Moriarty had the power to do anything he liked to her if they were alone.

Molly debated with herself what to do about the ring. She wanted to take it off, seeing as she hated the man who'd given it to her and she didn't want to see her name printed in gossip columns, but where would she put it? Moriarty would surely be extremely cross with her if she lost it. Of course, he probably wouldn't be happy if she took it off either, but he could hardly expect her to wear it when she had not accepted his proposal. Throwing caution to wind, Molly slid the jeweled thing from her hand and tucked it in her bosom as the heroine of a story she'd read had once done. There had been no mention in the story of the uncomfortable part, but Molly didn't much care. She enjoyed the excitement of doing something not entirely proper to thwart her menacing suitor. She giggled to herself when she recalled that the story which had inspired her had been in the compilation of sensational literature the Shade had given her. Some of those stories were a bit too vulgar and unconventional to have been sold in any respectable shop. He must have gone to great lengths to get the book for her. That thought made it feel as if her heart was breaking all over again. It took everything she had to stifle the sob that wanted to burst from her throat. Oh God, how she missed her Angel of Shadow.

* * *

The Shade didn't like spending so much time away from Molly Hooper, but it was necessary and she was perfectly capable of handling herself, as she'd proven time and again. He was helping her in a different way now, having come to fully understand James Moriarty's intentions towards her. Whenever he could, the Shade caused trouble for Hudson Hall's patron that would give Molly a night of freedom. Occasionally, he employed Mrs. Hudson to do his work, which she was all too happy to do, but Moriarty was a slippery fiend who did not easily part with his toy.

The Shade's greatest fear was realized when he saw a distressed Molly secret away an engagement ring in her desk drawer. He watched her for many hours that night, even going so far as to stand over her bed as she slept her troubles away. Now he was forced to admit to himself that the other reason he had kept away from his former pupil these past few months was that he was afraid of what he felt for her. He was setting himself up for unimaginable pain, for if he failed and Molly was taken from him, he didn't think he would be able to bear it. Nevertheless, his affection for her had not waned with their separation. If anything, it had grown stronger. It was clear now that he would not be able to spare himself. He had spent a great deal of time trying to resist these feelings. He'd even tried to completely forget her, but it was all for naught. Everything that was her coated his mind like a thin film of dust that tasted of sweet sophistication. She was an immutable omnipresence in his mind palace and he no longer had the power to deny it to himself. His ability to remain silent to her about it was another matter.

“While my heart still beats, you will remain free,” the Shade whispered to Molly as he brushed wayward locks of hair from her face. She was so very beautiful, inside and out. He could see that now. “Molly Hooper...” His gloved hand lingered on the the brunette's pale cheek, but she didn't wake. He stopped and reprimanded himself for displaying such unnecessary sentimentality and silently swept out of the room. There was work to be done and it would do neither of them any good for him to stand there, entertaining frivolous urges.

* * *

 

Mr. Anderson seemed particularly full of himself tonight as he walked out onto the stage, puffing his chest out proudly and smiling at the audience as if they adored him. Molly didn't make eye contact with him as he took his place beside her, not wanting to give him any reason to fuss.

The concert began well enough. Anderson managed to sound rather decent, although there was a bit too much flourish to his style. Lestrade looked surprisingly more relaxed than Molly had seen him in a long time. When she glanced up at Box 2, a familiar silhouette was there and she smiled for knowing that the Shade had not abandoned her. She imagined he was not at all pleased that the managers maintained Anderson as concertmaster, but she had no doubt that he was quietly plotting a new way to get what he wanted. It was still strange to think that he was no longer her teacher. However far she would go as a violinist was completely her doing now and she found that she was alright with that. It was nice not needing anyone to show her the way anymore. She felt truly grown up. That thought made her sit up even straighter in her chair and play with even more vigor. She could sense Lord Moriarty's eyes on her from Box 5, but she did not let it sully the moment. Just as that concert months ago had been her night of glory, this was her night of pride.

The first piece ended with the beautiful ring of the final notes and the audience clapped delightedly. Lestrade was readying the score of the second piece when two gunshots rang out. Startled, Molly and many others immediately looked about and saw Mr. Van Coon fall from Box 1, his front stained with red. The hall erupted into chaos. People screamed and scrambled to leave. In her gut, Molly knew this had something to do with her, so she wasted no time in fleeing the stage. She hadn't really thought of where she would go since everything was happening so quickly, but she needed to escape, to hide, and her legs carried her through the dark building and burned as she dashed up a tight spiral staircase, two steps at a time, until she came to a place no one would bother to look for her: the roof.

The moment she came out into the open, a long arm snaked around her waist and pulled her to a tall, darkly clad body. As soon as a scream of terror escaped her throat, it died in a black leather hand which had been clamped over her mouth. She struggled in adrenaline fueled fear until she looked up and saw that it was the Shade. He removed his hand from her mouth and cradled her neck. After getting over the shock of it being him, she angrily tried to push him away, but his hold on her had not wavered in its firmness. She changed tactics and slapped him hard across the face, which succeeded in freeing her waist as he touched his jaw tenderly. Despite the look of utter astonishment on his features, his other hand was still able grab her arm tightly enough to prevent her from slipping away from him.

“Don't you ever scare me like that again!” Molly hissed, attempting desperately to free herself from the Shade's grasp. He gathered both her hands in his own, trying to still her without further frightening her.

“Molly, stop being irrational for a moment and think,” he told her sternly, though it was the fragility she saw in his blue eyes that truly made her halt. “I had to make sure you wouldn't call attention to yourself when you saw me. Forgive me.” That was the first time Molly had ever heard the Shade apologize for anything and it made her gut tighten with unease because it meant that what was happening was more serious than anything else they'd faced before.

“Where have you been?” Molly's voice wavered slightly with the question, but she maintained her glare.

“I've been tirelessly working to make things harder for your pursuer,” the Shade replied with more irritation than he had intended.

“You've done a marvelous job of it,” Molly shot back with a bitter laugh. She realized now that she was angry at him for cutting her off. She'd felt so alone these past few months that it was difficult not to be.

“Moriarty would have had a ring on your finger weeks ago if I hadn't-”

“And you couldn't even be bothered to leave me a single letter, why exactly?” This caused the Shade to freeze and stare down at Molly, unable to respond for a long moment.

“Molly...I'm sorry.” Another apology. What had happened to him? Why had he changed like this? The young woman's anger ebbed away and large flakes of fluffy snow began to fall from the dark sky. “I'm here now. You're safe.” She closed her eyes for a moment, relishing the feeling of his hands cradling her face.

“Why did he kill Mr. Van Coon?” she asked softly.

“He didn't. Someone in Box 5 with him did. He's going to blame the murder on me in the hopes that it will turn everyone against me, especially you. He knows I want you to be concertmistress and he will use it as my justification.”

“I'd never believe such a thing. I trust you.” This statement brought an affectionate smile to the Shade's face which seemed to have an underlying anguish to it.

“Moriarty doesn't know that.”

“What do we do?”

“I'm not yet sure. I need more information. But I  _ will _ find a way to free you of him. I may not be your teacher any longer, but you still matter to me more than anyone,” the Shade confessed. Molly felt her breath hitch in her throat. She had had no idea that she meant so much to him. Their faces were close enough now that their misting breath collided and she could see the beautiful detail in his eyes. “You permeate every corner of my mind, whether I will it or not.” His voice was low and heavy as he spoke and he was looking at her in a way he never had before. It sent a shiver down her spine that for once in her life was out of pleasure rather than fear.

“Do you love me?” The question took the Shade off guard and he floundered for a minute, obviously trying to comprehend and respond to what Molly had just asked him. She smiled at him sympathetically and rested her hands on his chest. This was enough to spur him into closing the distance between them and crashing his lips against hers. He'd clearly never done this before, but what he lacked in experience he made up for in fervor. He kissed her with the hunger of a man starved for affection and it was utterly intoxicating. The sweet taste he left in her mouth when he pulled back had her yearning for seconds, so she took what she wanted and showed him how much she returned his feelings. Both of their chests heaved with the effort of regaining their breath once their mouths parted again. Molly had never felt so fulfilled in all her life.

“You know I do,” the Shade finally said in answer to her question. He took off his black cloak and lay it about her shoulders, shielding her from the chilling wind. Even with the heat of their kissing, her concert gown was not nearly thick enough to protect her against the cold. She grinned dreamily back at him, almost completely forgetting how frightened she had felt only a few minutes ago. She wrapped her arms around his torso, resting her head in the crook of his neck, and he held her as he did in her dreams. This was the happiest moment of her life and it had the decency to last a good several minutes. Their persons became dusted with snow and Molly reached up to brush the cold white fluff from the Shade's dark curls. He let out a deep chuckle and took her hand in his own. “Come. You must hide until we can be sure Moriarty does not also have designs on you this night. The rooftop is hardly the best place.”

The Shade guided Molly back inside, through dark passages she had not known about, let alone seen. Most people feared the darkness, but it had always been a shroud of comfort for her, so much so that she'd fallen in love with a man who represented the very shadows. She knew exactly where it was that he was taking her. He'd led her there once before in rescuing her from the threat of James Moriarty. The place had hardly changed since she'd last been there, with the exception of the bedroom.

“It occurred to me that there would be other times you would need to sleep here, so I took it upon myself to make the necessary accommodations,” the masked man explained when Molly caught sight of the new wardrobe in the corner which contained a number of very beautiful garments, including nightgowns. There was something awfully intimate about the fact that he had selected all of these things for her, but it didn't bother her, especially knowing that he didn't think of it that way.

“Thank you, my Angel of Shadow.” Molly planted a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth. She could see that there was something else he wanted to say, but was having difficulty saying it, so she rested a hand supportively on his shoulder. “What is it?”

“You have the right to know your lover's face,” he told her and now she understood that he was simply nervous. She stepped back from him to give him space and he slowly reached up to carefully remove the black mask that obscured the upper half of his countenance. He was even more handsome than she had expected him to be. For a moment, she wondered if he really was some supernatural being.

“Why do you wear it?” the young woman asked, tracing her fingers over his prominent cheekbones.

“I cannot risk having my face recognized. A helpful side effect is that it's much easier for people to think me a ghost. It makes my features less human and more mysterious.” Molly saw the logic in that and didn't press for further details. He had done this to display his trust in her and would give only as much information as he dared. That was totally fine with her. She watched in fascination as he slipped off his gloves, which had always seemed to be an extension of his mask, and gestured to her hair. “May I?”

“Of course.” With this, he carefully took the pins from her hair and let it fall down past her shoulders. His long, spindly fingers combed reverently through her brown locks, all the while his gaze never leaving hers.

“Understand, Molly Hooper, that I know little of feelings. I have always divorced myself from them or else locked them away in notes of music. Before you, companionship was something reserved for others, as was romantic attachment. I have no qualities to make me worthy of closeness and no desires of the flesh to make me seek worthiness, so I truly became an outsider, a specter haunting Hudson Hall. But then you came with your loyalty and your brilliance and piece by piece I was forced to become more than a whisper in the dark. I don't know how to be what you want, Molly, but I can no longer stop myself from aspiring to it,” the Shade explained quietly.

“I understand. I have since the moment you kissed me.”

“I expected nothing less from you.” Once more, the Shade captured Molly's lips with his own, but this time it was defined by slow and steady movements. There was no fire, only sweetness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was a slightly steamy chapter. No, there will be no smut in this fic. Sorry. Moving on. I'm already working on the next chapter and I've sort of got everything planned out for the rest of the fic. It looks like there's going to be two or three more chapters of ever increasing dramaticness. I will try to get them to you as soon as I can. In the meantime, thank you so much for reading.


	4. Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again

In the morning, Molly found the Shade sitting at his piano, writing notes on a page of sheet music. His hair was once again damp and he wore no shirt, which allowed her to see the long, thin scars which marred the skin of his back. She counted more than a dozen and knew enough of scars to be privy to the fact that these marks were given to him as a boy. It horrified her to think that he'd suffered the bite of a whip in his childhood. Apparently it had shown on her features, because when he noticed her presence, he immediately stood and faced her.

“I should have been more mindful.” He seemed to be speaking more to himself than to her and he stalked into his bedroom to fetch a shirt.

“You don't have to do that,” Molly called, but he was determined in his movements.

“Are you not disgusted by my scars?” There was self-hatred in those words that made Molly's heart ache for the Shade. She watched him shrug on a pristine white shirt, covering his marked flesh, and felt she had to try and do something to heal the scars that had been left on his mind.

“No, I'm not,” she told him firmly and he paused but did not look back at her.

“Why else would you look at me in such a way?”

“Because I'm sorry that you suffered.” The Shade turned to face her now, his hands slightly unsteady as he tried to do up his shirt. “Let me,” Molly offered and he allowed her finish the task. “Nothing I say will make that pain go away. I realize that. But I want you to know that I love all of you, not just your brilliant mind and your lovely face. Your scars are part of the whole that is you and my affection is no lesser for it.” She didn't ask why he had been whipped as a child. If he wasn't comfortable with her seeing the marks in the first place, she had no right to inquire as to how he'd gotten them. Her words prompted him to cover her hands in his own and smile at her as if everything she was was so precious to him that it made his heart ache. He gave her a tender kiss before he rested his forehead against her own and spoke in a quiet rumble.

“I have something I want you to see.” He pulled Molly with him over to his piano and pressed a thick, leather bound score into her grasp. “I have finally completed my piece.” A grin of excitement graced his features as she traced her fingers over the embossed letters of the title, 'Duet for the Strange'. Carefully, she opened it and saw the dedication, 'For my concertmistress.' Her heart melted as she realized that the piece she had only glimpsed so long ago was for her. Flipping the page revealed a listing of the five movements, which were named Angel, Ghost, Trust, Freedom, and Burn. She immediately recognized the melody of the first movement as that which had flowed from her dreams to her violin the last time she had played with the Shade. It only took a second for it to hit her than this was not just for her, it was  _ about _ her, about  _ them _ . Now she truly understood what the Shade had meant when he had said that the only way he knew how to express his sentiments was through music.

“It's beautiful,” Molly remarked, her brown orbs glistening a little.

“One day soon, you will perform it and enchant all who hear you.”

“It's you who shall be doing the enchanting. You wrote the piece.” The Shade smirked at her perpetual modesty and took one of her hands in his own, examining it like a fine object.

“Only you can play it as it should be.” He traced his thumb over her musician's callouses reverently. She set aside his lovely score so that she could touch the side of his face. For a moment longer, they forgot about the dark shadow that loomed over them both, but this time it didn't last long. The Shade soon fetched his mask and slid on his gloves, reminding Molly that there was serious business to be done. All the world thought him a murderer now and her disappearance would be noted again. It was time she returned and quieted any fear people held for her. “I will watch over you until you are with friends. I have little doubt that Moriarty will be lying in wait for your return,” the Shade told her as he shrugged on his waistcoat.

“He'll likely offer to take me away and call it protection. Don't worry. I know how to say no to him. I don't think he'd be half as interested in me as he is if I didn't play hard to get.” Despite the confidence in her cheeky smile, she felt fear eating away at her heart. Practically anything could happen when she got back and few of the scenarios that crossed Molly's mind were pleasant.

“Go, my dear concertmistress. You can find me tonight on the roof if all goes well.” With a soft kiss to her forehead, the Shade handed her one of his blue candles and gestured for her to be on her way.

“Farewell, my Angel of Shadow.” She lit her candle with one on the wall and hurried off through the passageway that led to her study. It was cold and breezy in the dark stone corridor, but it didn't much bother her. She could still feel that kiss on her skin and it filled her with a sense of serenity that kept her from worrying thoughts. All was quiet when she reached the room and she breathed a sigh of relief. After placing the candle behind the bookshelf and closing it up, she heard a knock on the door.

“Molly? Are you in there?” It was Mary. She could be trusted.

“I am,” Molly called back before opening the door. An anxious Mary immediately pulled her into a tight embrace.

“Where have you been? We've all been searching for you. The  _ police _ are here. Everyone is saying that the Hall Ghost, that  _ your _ _ teacher _ , murdered Mr. Van Coon.”

“I know. He's not my teacher anymore, though. He's my...he's my...” Molly didn't know how to describe her new relationship with the Shade. He had labelled himself her lover, but that seemed far too intimate a thing to tell Mary so casually. Judging by the look on Mary's face, however, she didn't need to say the word. “W-we have an understanding. And he  _ didn't _ murder Mr. Van Coon. He's been framed.”

“I thought as much. Unfortunately, the patron is very adamant that he saw a masked man with a gun and we both know that the police won't be interested in listening to any opinions that differ from a lord's.” Molly was slightly astonished by how Mary seemed to be able to take all of this in stride. No wonder John was in love with the woman.

“Indeed. Where's John?” Just as she'd voice the question, the familiar blond man appeared in the doorway looking absolutely delighted to see her.

“There you are! Mary found you then did she? I can see that we've a lot to talk about.” John eyed Molly's frock as he spoke and it quickly occurred to her that he was probably taking note of the fact that he had never seen it before. “You were with him, weren't you?”

“Yes,” Molly answered softly. John's eyes went wide, having inferred more about the nature of her time with the Shade than was true from her blush. “Oh! No. No, no. We didn't- I...I remain chaste. Our understanding isn't quite like  _ that _ .”

“Oh.” John certainly seemed a little embarrassed that he had jumped to conclusions and turned the conversation back over to Mary with a glance.

“Is there anything we can do to help you?” Mary asked, placing a sympathetic hand on the other woman's shoulder.

“At the moment, all I need is for you to stay with me.”

* * *

This romantic arrangement with Molly Hooper was a new and vaguely frightening thing for the Shade, although he would have a great deal of difficulty admitting such a thing to himself, let alone anyone else. He didn't like to think he could be afraid, but he was. He didn't want to lose the person who mattered the most to him above anything else. Several times, he had briefly considered permanently cutting off Molly for both their sakes, but she was like a narcotic to him. He had been with her and cared for her so long that he needed her and didn't know how to go about life without her. Now that they shared such a deep level of intimacy, there could be no going back, so he carried on doing what he had always done: protected her.

Molly spent most of her day, quite wisely, with John Watson and Mary Morstan, both of whom the Shade had determined to be extremely trustworthy, so he was put at ease. He concentrated on keeping the nosy police from causing any problems. They wanted to question Molly and occasionally they would stumble dangerously close to discovering the secret passages, so he had his hands full distracting them. By the time he had managed to trick the authorities into believing they had nothing more to find, it was dusk and he made his way to the roof, eager to be with Molly again. He waited in the shadow of a huge and menacing gargoyle for the moment the petite beauty of his beloved would appear from behind the access door. She took longer than he had estimated.

“Shade!” she gasped when she finally arrived, looking a little bit shaken but otherwise joyous. He revealed himself and she ran into his embrace. It was clear from the way she trembled that she had had an encounter with Moriarty, but her mood indicated that the outcome was positive.

“Tell me,” he commanded and she pulled back from him so that she could look him in the eyes.

“Lord Moriarty is going away on some sort of business in Switzerland for a few weeks, a place called Reichenbach. He told me that it's not safe for me here and requested that I come with him, but I told him I couldn't possibly miss any rehearsals and that I didn't think you would ever do anything to hurt me. He relented.” The Shade instantly realized the reason for Molly's delight at these words. They were going to have some time free of their demon. A grin found its way onto the Shade's lips, though he said nothing in reply, he simply took in every detail of Molly's contentment, cataloging it in the palace of his mind. For some odd reason, it seemed paramount to him that he be able to know and remember everything he learned about her.

Silently, the Shade pulled Molly inside with him, through the shadowy passageways to his home. He had the most powerful need to make music with her. After he shed his cloak, he took up his violin and she wordlessly settled herself at the piano. Song, pure and wonderful, poured out from under their fingers. There were elements of darkness and drama to the melody they made and it soon became clear that these things were coming from Molly, who led the Shade's soaring notes with massive chords. It was a strange but beautiful dynamic and the longer the Shade gazed upon Molly as she played, the more he realized that this song was about him. She was pouring everything she knew him to be into the piano keys and he was mesmerized. In that moment, he could not understand his reluctance with her before;  _ of course _ he was in love with her- why wouldn't he be? She was utterly magnificent.

The feelings faded along with the last keening note that tore from his E string, but not so much that he did not give in to the temptation to place his hand on her shoulder and bend over to kiss her. This would not be the last time he was filled to the brim by his affection for her. He experienced it on multiple occasions throughout the time in which they were free of Moriarty's evil light. They came upon a period of contentment such as neither of them had known before. The Shade often found himself hiding in the house in the afternoons and watching the orchestra rehearse, enjoying the music and the sight of Molly being the brilliant star that she was. Their evenings were frequently spent together, doing everything from discussing scholarly topics to swimming in the underground river, and he was getting better rest than he had had in many years with her beside him at night.

It was a joyous few weeks that ultimately felt as if it had lasted a year but had also been far too short. It all went away on Christmas Eve morning, though it started pleasantly enough. Molly crawled out of his bed somewhat early, trying not to disturb him too much, though she did not know that he was already awake.

“What are you up to?” the Shade asked drowsily, his nose scrunching in bewilderment as he turned over to see her dressing herself.

“Oh, I wanted to go to the cemetery this morning and pay my respects to my father. You don't have to come if you don't want to.” Clearly she assumed that he wouldn't want to. It was very considerate of her to remember his usual attitudes toward sentiment, but she was still forgetting his habit of making exceptions for her.

“I will accompany you,” he assured her, getting to his feet and making himself presentable. She paused for a moment in her own preparations to watch him don his mask and gloves. He could not see her reason, so he passed it off as some form of sentiment that he was not familiar with. After she had tied her thick white cloak about her petite shoulders, she extended her hand to him and a small smile played at the corners of his lips when he took it and they ascended together through the passages and into the light of early morning.

They snuck around Hudson Hall to the snow dusted stables. The Shade took the reigns of a lovely black horse and beckoned Molly away from the chestnut one she had been approaching.

“It's better if people think that you left alone,” he explained and she climbed up behind him without objection. They took backstreets out of town and it was almost completely light out by the time they were cantering along a tree lined road. The winter scenery around them was admittedly quite pleasant. There was no overabundance of snow, so their path was not hindered, but there was just enough to coat the dead limbs of the trees and make up for the lack of leaves in beauty. The cold air meant little to him when Molly's delicate arms were wrapped around his waist. Despite her smallness, she was like a hearth.

It was not overly long before they came to the enormous cast iron gates of the cemetery. The Shade dismounted to open them and they creaked eerily as they moved. A few crows made indignant caws in response, but all else was silent. He retook the horse's reigns and guided it forward, pulling Molly through the maze of stone.

“Go left and it should be somewhere straight ahead,” she directed and he wordlessly obeyed. Sure enough, they soon found a mausoleum marked with the name Hooper carved across the top of it. Once he'd helped Molly down from the horse, the Shade took a moment to read the inscription next to the door. It said, 'BELOVED MUSICIAN, FRIEND, AND FATHER. MAY HE NOW SING WITH THE ANGELS IN HEAVEN.' It was a simple engraving, but a fitting one for such a man. “Did you ever hear my father sing?” Molly asked quietly.

“Once, when I was a child. He was a very gifted man.” That brought a sad smile to the brunette's features and she reached out to brush her fingers along the cold stone.

“I haven't any flowers for him, so I thought perhaps I should sing a song instead.” Molly's voice was distant as she spoke, as if the Shade was not who she was addressing. He made no objection and simply waited, allowing her to think, a courtesy she had often afforded him. Softly at first, but with a growing strength, song spilled from Molly's lips. It was an old, haunting melody that spoke of the passing of summer. The Shade recognized it as something that had its origins with Anglo-Saxon peasants. He knew the words, so he joined in at the next verse as it were the most natural thing in the world, lending his baritone to her soprano. The resulting sound resonated so beautifully that they both felt tingling sensations in their very bones. A tear fell from the corner of Molly's right eye as the last words were sung and he enveloped her hand in his own.

“It stands to reason that he would be very proud of you, Molly,” the Shade told her and she gave a small pleased laugh as she wiped the moisture from her face.

“And he would be very thankful to you for everything that you have taught me.”

“It was my pleasure.” His grin coaxed an equal one from his lovely companion. He relished the affection in her rosewood eyes and the warm sensation spreading down his spine made him realize that he really was addicted to her. Somehow, he couldn't bring himself to care. He was too happy.

“Well, isn't this just  _ adorable _ !” a third voice suddenly called and the couple looked around in shock to find James Moriarty sauntering towards them, a maniacal leer on his lips.

“What are you doing here?” Molly demanded, her eyes wide in surprise but her subsequent glare firm.

“I've returned from Switzerland, darling. And here I find you in the arms of another man. Oh, the scandal!” Moriarty replied flamboyantly. The Shade gritted his teeth and tightened his hold on Molly's hand. This was a very unexpected situation and a dangerous one at that. He had to think quickly or he might very soon find everything he'd worked for in pieces.

“I am not your fiancée,” Molly told the patron defiantly.

“You deny me?”

“I do.”

“Then it seems that that murderous spectre at your side has you under his spell. It is my duty to rid you of this fiend.” Moriarty still grinned, but his words were laced with ill intent. To the Shade's delight, Molly stood her ground and maintained her glare.

“My mind is my own, you foul man,” Molly snapped and Moriarty laughed.

“No one believes the word of a woman, especially one who lies with the dead.” The noblemen drew his sword as he spoke, putting the Shade's mind on high alert.

“While you're at it, why don't you inform your confederate that he can come out of hiding?” the Shade called out coolly, casually unsheathing his own blade. Without warning, a muscular blond man leapt down from atop the mausoleum and swung his own sword at the masked man. He parried and Molly ducked out of the way of a swing from Moriarty. With their elbows locked together, the couple traded places.

“I've long desired to meet you, Shade of Hudson Hall. You are an interesting creature, I must say,” Moriarty chatted as he clashed blades with the dark figure.

“Just as you are something of an interesting problem,” the Shade answered tersely, doing his best to put Moriarty in the defensive.

“Don't you like me in your music hall? I'm hurt,” the patron mocked. Behind the Shade, Molly was dancing away from the blond man's attacks. She had to unlink her arm from her lover's to avoid a nasty slash, but she managed to get behind him long enough to land a stunning punch between his shoulders.

“Shade!” she called urgently and the masked man nimbly tossed her his sword, taking his turn with dodging while she used the swordplay he had taught her to push back her own assailant. He couldn't resist a small smile when she gave the bastard a blooming red cut across the face. The man screamed and she threw the Shade back his blade, which he used to swat aside a vicious lunge.

“Why do you keep her, Shade?” Moriarty asked. “What need does a ghost have for a woman?”

“Nothing so nefarious as what you desire her for, my lord,” the Shade quipped in return, pushing Moriarty back before he answered Molly's new need for the sword. Unfortunately, he'd underestimated the amount of time he had to do so and quickly found himself sprawled in the snow from a pommel to the back of the head. As he rolled onto his back, he heard Molly cry out and he looked to her, hoping that she hadn't been harmed. He saw Moriarty's cohort grab her and put his blade to her throat. The Shade's own sword was kicked from his grasp as he scrambled to his feet to help her. He turned back to find the tip of Moriarty's sword brandished inches from his torso, poised to kill him.

“No! Stop!” Molly begged, catching the nobleman's attention. “I'll marry you! I'll be your bride. Just please let him go.” The Shade's heart skipped a beat at that. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be. This fate was just too cruel.

“Molly, no,” he objected almost angrily. He would not have the person who meant everything to him sign away her freedom for his sake, but he could see in her face that she would do anything to save him and that broke him in ways he didn't know he could be broken.

“Repeat. Loud and clear for all,” Moriarty demanded, beaming devilishly. Taking a deep breath, Molly obeyed.

“I accept your offer to marry me, James Moriarty. I will be your wife if you let the Shade go.” Her voice quivered, but she spoke with conviction and would not move her gaze from the Shade for a single moment. “This is my choice.” That was clearly said for him, rather than the patron, and it was like all the world was falling down around him. Then Moriarty ran him through and Molly screamed. As his body fell, he watched her struggle against the blond man with everything she had. “You were supposed to let him go!”

“Oh, I did. You were just nonspecific as to the manner of his release,” Moriarty giggled. “And how disappointing it is that he's not a ghost after all. He's just an ordinary man.” With that, he turned on his heel and walked away, completely ignoring Molly's shrieks. The Shade lay in the snow, clutching at his wound and watching his enemies leave with his concertmistress via carriage. In his last seconds before losing consciousness, he thought of the rooftop and their first kiss, Molly's symphony echoing through his mind. He felt the crushing pain of loss and then everything went black.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I evil? I think I'm evil. But don't worry, the Shade isn't quite done. Thank you so much for reading and I hope I can get you another update soon (no, asking for one does not help at all).


	5. Masquerade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that this took so long, but you know how it is. I do hope this is worth the wait.

The week following the Shade's death was perhaps the worst of Molly's life thus far. She grieved him with every fiber of her being, but she could not show it. She would not. She refused the give James Moriarty the satisfaction of seeing her pain. Not a single tear fell from her eyes and she liked to think that that frustrated the patron. He announced publicly that he had vanquished the creature haunting Hudson Hall who had murdered Mr. Van Coon and there was raucous celebration from everyone but those close to Molly. They alone knew of the terrible loss that this was and of the great lie Lord Moriarty was spinning. They saw the depth of the pain Molly felt in the brave smiles she wore and heard it in the music she played when she thought no one was listening.

What no one knew was that Molly was spending her moments of silence contemplating how she would ensure that Moriarty would face justice. There was no way in hell that she was going to take the brutal murder of the man she loved sitting down. She didn't quite know how yet, but she would see James Moriarty pay for what he had done.

In equal measure, the patron of Hudson Hall seemed determined to make her life as torturous as possible. She knew how he liked to watch her squirm, stuck in uncomfortable situations. He trotted her out in public as much as he could and kissed her cheek when no one was looking, whispering disgustingly sultry things in her ear. The icing on it all was the New Year's Masquerade Ball that he sponsored and planned to use as the occasion to announce his engagement to Molly. She did everything she could to try and get out of it, but it was no use. Before she knew it, she was in a ball gown, walking around in a festive crowd on Moriarty's arm, trying not to be sick at the leering glances he gave her.

Though Molly didn't open her mouth once as she was led down the grand staircase into the front hall where the masquerade was being held, all the statements she needed to make were evident with her dress, which Moriarty had sent her to the finest seamstresses to acquire. It was black and feathery, as was her mask, which was particularly pointed at the nose, rather like a beak. It was quite clear that she was meant to be a raven and it was the ultimate display of her mourning at the death of her lover, one which her fiancé did not miss.

"Molly dear, you look as ravishing as ever, but I can't help but notice the inappropriateness of your theme. Here I am preparing to announce our engagement to the world and you've adorned yourself in mourning. Not only that, but in mourning of another man, one you have allowed under your skirts. I'm insulted." Though Moriarty smiled at her and spoke in a pleasant tone, his words conveyed a serious threat. Molly did not allow it to affect her. She felt no fear anymore, only a burning desire to see this man humiliated.

"I'm sorry you feel that way," she replied and Moriarty glared.

"You will regret that," he told her softly, his smile broadening. Molly didn't even flinch, which seemed to further rile the man. He took her hands in his own, squeezing them tightly enough for her to wonder if her fingers would break, and pulled her towards the throng of dancing people. "Dance with me, beloved." As always, it was a command, not a request. Seeing as she had no choice, Molly acquiesced. While Moriarty pranced around with her like she was a prop, however, her mind lay half-focused on her plan to make her fiancé suffer. She didn't care what he would do to her, not anymore.

It was good to see that others around her were actually enjoying themselves. She passed Mr. Lestrade and Miss Donovan, who were both smiling and laughing, Lestrade in a silver fox mask and Donovan in a pretty black and gold one. Mr. Wilkes arrived surrounded by at least four women to whom he was mouthing off about how wonderful it was to be rid of the "malicious spirit" that had haunted the concert hall and killed his business partner. The women were nodding, but Molly suspected they were not actually listening, given that the size of his bank account was inversely proportional to the quality of his charm and overall character. Mrs. Hudson seemed to be having quite a lovely time off in one corner, having ensnared the attention of a pair of men who looked to be around her age. Molly's gaze searched around, hoping to see how John and Mary were getting on, but she could not find them among the sea of people.

When there came the sound of clocktower chimes which announced that it was midnight and the beginning of a new year, many of the guests stopped and cheered loudly, some crying out "Happy New Year!" Molly, in contrast, did not feel joy. Instead, a particular solemnity and resolve came over her, growing stronger as Moriarty guided her to the platform on which some of her colleagues had been playing the music they had been dancing to. Her gaze was fixed on the back of his neck. She knew enough of anatomy to be certain that if she clamped her fingers hard at the base of his skull, he would be instantly put at her mercy. Her plan was to grab him just as he was about to declare their engagement. While he was down, she would tell everyone of how he was an abuser and murderer. She would probably be labelled a mad woman and be sent away, but at least she would have inflicted a level of humiliation on Moriarty akin to that which she felt by being made his pet.

"Thank you all for being here tonight," the patron began after getting the attention of the crowd. "The coming of a new year brings with it the opportunity for new beginnings, not just in matters of official business, but also in private dealings." Molly's heart pounded in her head, louder and louder the closer Moriarty came to mentioning her betrothal to him. Her fingers flexed, readying themselves for what they were about to do, itching for it even. "It is therefore with great pleasure that I wish to make an announcement of a personal matter." Molly's hand discreetly inched upwards toward the patron's neck. "Molly Hooper and I-"

Before he could finish and Molly could close her fingers on his neck, someone in the crowd let out a shrill scream and the people collectively gasped. When Molly looked to see what had drawn their attention, her heart stopped.

There at the top of the grand staircase stood a tall figure in clothes of a luxurious deep violet. The upper half of his face was covered with an ominous skull mask, but the profile and the mop of inky black curls were unmistakable. He was the Shade and he had returned from the dead.

"Did you honestly think you could so easily dispose of me?" he called out. Hearing that rich baritone again sent a shiver down Molly's spine.

"You were dead. I killed you!" Moriarty exclaimed in disbelief, a deep scowl finding its way onto his features.

"You cannot kill what is already dead." There came further horrified gasps from the crowd. "This is and ever shall be _my_ concert hall, just as surely as Molly Hooper will never belong to you, my lord." Though Moriarty smirked at this, Molly could tell that he was inwardly seething with anger.

"It doesn't matter. I still hold all of the cards," he sneered.

"Is that a fact?" the Shade replied coldly before finally meeting Molly's gaze and extending his hand to her. "Come to me, Miss Hooper." There was a gentleness to his tone which made it a request more than a command. She knew that this was a choice and he wouldn't blame her if she stayed put for her own safety. She was beyond the point of worrying about her safety, however, and eagerly moved to answer him. Moriarty closed his fingers painfully around her arm to hold her back, but she did as she had planned and pinched the back of his neck. He howled and let her go, falling to his knees and allowing her to leave his side to approach the stairs. As she ascended them, the Shade slowly and gracefully descended to meet her. A jolt of sensation shot up her arm when she took the gloved had he offered her. He wordlessly stole Moriarty's ruby engagement ring from her finger and it felt like he was removing a noose from her neck.

"Shade..." she whispered, almost unable to believe that her beloved was standing before her as proudly as ever. She longed to hold him, to feel his lips pressed firmly to hers, to be lulled to sleep by the sound of his violin once more.

"I have something for you," he told her for all to hear. He produced the leather bound score of the symphony that she had been the inspiration for. She held it close to her chest, understanding that she was its new keeper. It represented everything that they were together and she would cling to it and protect it as if Death itself was trying to pry it from her grasp. "The orchestra will play my symphony at their next performance and Molly Hooper _will_ be concertmistress. Disobey me and there will be unpleasant consequences." The Shade addressed the onlookers, most of whom stared back with some mixture of terror, awe, and fascination. He then placed a chaste kiss on Molly's cheek which left her feeling as if her face was on fire.

The blond man, whose name she had learned was Moran, brought a recovered Moriarty his sword, which he drew with a vicious determination. He stalked forward, clearly intent on taking the Shade from Molly a second time. She would not have it. Without hesitation, she ripped off her mask and took her lover's sword from its scabbard, turning to face the man who had tried so hard to destroy her life. She expected the Shade to object, but he surprised her.

"Slay him," he said fondly, caressing Molly's face with the back of his fingers and coaxing a smile onto her lips.

"Why not fight me yourself, Hall Ghost?" Moriarty jeered, clearly grasping for some sense of control over the situation.

"Because there is no one you have wronged more than Molly Hooper," the Shade responded calmly and the patron lunged. Molly parried him and began her offensive. She forced him step by step down the stairs and the people around them hurried to get out of the way. She let her anger fill her with strength and energy as she swiped her blade at Moriarty. For the first time, she thought she saw the light of fear in her adversary's dark eyes. Again and again she took ground from him, the crowd parting rapidly with screams of fright as they went. She still held the score firmly in her other hand as she hitched up the skirts of her gown so that she didn't trip as she fought.

"The Shade's little whore to the last, aren't you?" Moriarty taunted.

"Jealous?" Molly quipped before twisting his sword from his grasp and striking him on the shoulder with the pommel of her own. He fell to the floor ungracefully and lay prone on his back as she poised the tip of her blade over his heart. The other people gasped again, as if in anticipation of the blow that never came.

"Too weak to finish it, are you?" the patron mocked.

"Choosing not to kill a man isn't weakness, James. It's a show of better moral character. I leave you to your shame." With that, she turned from him and walked away, ignoring the slew of scathing words he shouted after her and the whispers of the shocked bystanders as she left the ball for her study chamber.

* * *

"What happened?" was the first question John and Mary asked when the Shade returned to his home deep under the concert hall. He had left them there to await him, knowing that he would need their help when and if he made it back. He stumbled into their arms and he leaned on them for support. From the pocket of his trousers, he drew the ruby ring he had taken and his lips twitched upwards in a smile.

"I stopped him. Molly's handling him now." The Shade's voice was strained as he spoke and the couple exchanged anxious looks. He collapsed, crying out in agony and they hastily carried him to his bed. They opened his coat and his shirt, revealing the reopened wound in his torso. He continued to moan in anguish and Mary ran her fingers soothingly through his hair.

"Shh...shh...it's all right," she comforted. "You tore your sutures, but we'll put it right again, don't worry. Just hold on." She was the orphan of a surgeon and he trusted her word, so he leaned into her touch and watched as she directed John in treating him. He focused on her calm voice and tried to block out the excruciating pain, just as he had the last time they had helped him...

_...He was cold...so very cold...and something was stirring him into consciousness...a voice..._

_"Oh my God, he's alive! John, help me lift him. We have to hurry. There isn't much time." Mary. He wheezed in pain and his eyes shot open when she pressed her small hand to his wound. "Stay still. It's all right. We've got you." He felt himself being lifted into what sounded like a carriage and he began drifting in and out of awareness. "Shade? Shade, look at me. We're going to take care of you and get you back to Molly. Just stay with me." Mary's voice had a tranquilizing effect that made it easier to bear the pain of whatever surgery she was performing on him..._

* * *

Molly locked herself in her study and leaned on her desk while she took a few deep breaths. It was all a lot to process. The Shade was alive. How, she did not know. She had just dishonoured Moriarty in front of a large number of people. Her situation was going to be very different tomorrow, that was certain, whether it be for better or for worse.

Having regained her calm, Molly placed the Shade's sword atop her desk and locked his score in one of the drawers. There it would be safe until she gave it to Mr. Lestrade for use. Just as she began to contemplate searching for the Shade, her bookcase opened to reveal an urgent John Watson. She gaped at him in shock, never having expected to see him come from there.

"Thank God. Molly, you have to come quickly. He needs you." She didn't need to ask who John was talking about; she just followed him hastily down through the passage to the Shade's chambers. She was surprised to find Mary at the Shade's bedside, carefully bandaging his abdomen. Molly rushed to his side, taking his hand in both of her own.

"Molly..." he rasped. "Told you...she'd never fail me..." he added, seemingly addressing John, though he squeezed Molly's hand feebly.

"Somebody please explain what is happening here," Molly requested, her voice cracking.

"That hole Moriarty put in him that I sewed up, he tore it back open when he went to see you tonight. I'm honestly impressed that he managed to make it back," Mary explained.

"How is that either of you got involved in this?"

"John," Mary prompted.

"Right. We saw Moriarty return to Hudson Hall long before he was due back. We got worried that he was up to something and followed him to the graveyard. The Shade is lucky we did, otherwise he really would be dead."

"Thank you. Thank you both so much." Molly was almost in tears. She felt so very fortunate that she should have such friends, that she should have the man she loved back within her grasp. With a shaky breath, she placed a soft kiss on the crown of the Shade's head and Mary smiled sympathetically at her.

"We're just doing the right thing," John told Molly kindly, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"He's stable now. As long as he confines himself to this bed and gets lots of rest, he'll recover quickly," Mary announced, stepping back from the bed with a look of relief on her features. It was understood that she and John had to leave now or their absence might become suspicious.

"I'll take care of him," Molly promised.

"I never doubted that you would." The blond couple then said their farewells and left Molly to tend the Shade, who looked quite exhausted.

"I didn't kill him," she told him apologetically.

"Then you did what I wouldn't. I'm glad." She was surprised by this response, particularly when he continued. "I would've fought him, even with my wound, and I would've killed him without a second thought. That's why...that's why I let you do it...because I knew...I knew you'd be better than that." His words came out with difficulty, but he seemed determined that they should be said.

"My dear Angel of Shadow...you didn't have to risk yourself like this," Molly sighed as she carefully removed his skull mask.

"I did. For more reasons than I've the strength to list," he countered tiredly while Molly wiped the white paint from his nose. She paused just as she was about to move on to the black paint around his eyes which maintained the deathly quality of his appearance.

"Do you have any idea how much I love you?" The Shade seemed to contemplate this for a second before responding.

"Come closer...and I'll tell you." Molly leaned in expectantly. "Closer." She leaned in further, their faces now only inches apart. "Closer." The word came out a sensuous rumble that sent a pleasant shiver down her spine and prompted her to bend down until the Shade's lips could capture hers hungrily. A delighted hum escaped her and her hands came up to cradle his face.

"Happy New Year, Molly Hooper," he whispered when they came up for air and she felt pure joy for the first time it what had seemed like an eternity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to end on a happy note to make up for the last chapter's ending. There will be just one more chapter after this, which I am both pleased and saddened to say. Thank you all for reading.


End file.
